In this week’s Dispatches from New Motherhood piece Liz Smith reflects on love, loss and connection. DANCING IN THE KITCHEN is a beautifully tender and moving account of a precious moment shared between three generations, and how the author continues to foster the spirit of that moment.
Liz says, ‘I think the birth of a child makes you look at all relationships around you, and with respect to motherhood, it makes you particularly think about your relationship with your own mother and reflect on her experiences too. My Mum was around for the first years of my first child’s life, but unfortunately died before my second child was born, so this felt really important and obvious to me when thinking about what to write about. I don’t know what made me write about dancing with my children, but it was something that happened and when I started to write, it just flowed. It feels like a nice tribute to my Mum, which I feel proud of.’
Of Mothership, Liz says ‘I started the course, having not written anything since my school days and dubious about my creative ability. My daughter came with me and was very happy with the people there, who became so familiar. I therefore had the headspace to get the most out of the sessions and I surprised myself with some of my work. I also now have the confidence to pick up pen and paper, when the mood takes me.’
Enjoy Liz’s emotional and uplifting piece here. And then go and play Uptown Funk!
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Dancing in the Kitchen
Liz Smith
Some moments I’ll never forget, and there’s one that I can see so vividly it's as though it were this morning. My two-year-old son George and I had just finished breakfast and I was tidying up. As his favourite Uptown Funk came on the radio, he started dancing along. He was oblivious to the cloud that was hanging over us all, and as I watched him, it allowed me to forget for a moment too. I joined in. Mum appeared from her room, her terminal diagnosis now undeniable. Her face lit up as she saw George. Suddenly, she was there too, taking his full attention, dancing along with vigour. She bent to meet him, her arms swaying to the beat and feet tapping in time with his. She was giving everything she had to him. The moment passed in seconds and Mum, immediately tired, made apologies and returned to her room. She never left her bed again.
I think of this now, as there is dancing in the kitchen again. This time, it is not Mum’s kitchen, but my own. George, now five, is showing his 18-month-old sister all his moves and she is dancing in her own way, with complete abandon.
I feel so grateful for the time George had with Mum. Although he remembers little of it, his experiences with her are ingrained in his personality. The way he appreciates the new buds on the trees in the Spring and how he kicks through the leaves in Autumn. The way he loves to water the garden and rescue the worms he finds on the patio. And the fact that his chosen bath toy is often an empty plastic bottle. Freya will never experience those adventures with her Granny, where time was irrelevant and every interest indulged. As to me, I miss those daily phone conversations, with Mum’s 'How’s it going?' and my barrage of events hurtling back at her. Mum will never see the delight on Freya’s face when her brother walks into the room or hear the way she babbles his name.
It’s sad, but it’s not bad. It’s sad that they are missing out on their Granny. It’s sad that she is missing out on knowing the gorgeous human beings they are turning out to be. It’s sad, but it’s not bad. The truth is, they are surrounded by her influence, from the part of her that’s in me, to the art that now hangs on our walls and her wonky pottery bowls and plates that we use every day.
In our kitchen, George has now taken Freya’s hands and they are swaying in time to Everything is Awesome from The Lego Movie. They are both giggling and my heart is bursting with love and pride. I stop what I am doing and I join them. We keep dancing.
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Dancing in the Kitchen by Liz Smith appears in the Mothership Writers anthology Dispatches from New Motherhood. All 50 pieces from the book will be published here over the year to come, creating an online library of what it really means – right here, right now – to be a new mother.